Quiet Beauty
by seshygirl04
Summary: After an acciedent involving the Malfoy family, Draco is left to find himself. He takes a vow of silence and Harry Potter helps him understand his feelings. Slash! Harry/Draco
1. Chapter 1

It had been two months since Draco Malfoy was announced to be deaf. Some didn't believe it, but none could conquer to his blank stare. He spoke no words to anybody even his teacher and Hogwart's own potions master, Professor Snape. He did speak in sign language to him though. Others, like his body guards; Crabbe and Goyle, some friends and the head master learned some sign language to try to communicate with the boy. It seemed though, that he was determined to reside in his own head, go through with his studies and just barely go through life without speaking a single word to anybody. Even though he was obviously deaf, nobody really knew why he was that way. He would thrash about and kick around when the mediwitch tried to examine him. People just assumed it had something to do with his parent's deaths.

Lucius and Narcissa had tragically died in Muggle London while accompanying their son to a music shop. It was the middle of autumn, dark out, and the shop was in an empty street. They had just gotten out of the shop, Draco's new cello in hand, when a man in a ski mask with a gun ran up to them and asked them for all their money. The thief hadn't noticed Draco so his father signaled for him to run, far, far away. Draco ran, his new cello bumping against his back within the back straps and his breath huffing in and out in the cold autumn air. He ran until he heard three gun shots, the sound of his mother screaming, and then another two shots.

He looked back with a hard lump forming in his throat, but couldn't see his parents in the darkness. He ran back to his parents, not caring if the thief shot him too, but when he got there, the thief was gone, and his parents were on the street, gazing sightlessly at the sky. Their wands were in their hands and a huge mass of blood was forming around them.

He cried out in anguish and then pulled his own wand out. He then used it to send a beam of blue light into the sky, the signal to the local magical guards that a wizard was in trouble. He stuck his wand between the cobble stones of the street and knelt down next to his mother. She suddenly seemed to come back to consciousness and saw that Draco was there.

"Hold my hand Draco. I need to tell you something," his mother said, her voice eerily clear but quiet and a little slurred. "I can't feel you Draco, are you holding my hand?" Draco noticed a trail of blood was coming out of her mouth as she spoke, and could not answer even if the hard lump in his throat went away. "Draco, go to The Manor, look in my bedroom and under the floor boards, there's something I need you to take care of there. Take it and bury it close to the river. No one may know of it. Keep it secret, never tell a soul." Draco could only nod, but he soon realized that his mother couldn't see him when her gaze slipped to his chin. "I'm sorry you had to deal with it, but this is important and I can't live long enough to do it myself. Know that I love you; always and never let anybody bring you down. You will always be a Malfoy and not even the Dark Lord can take that away from you."

Draco gripped his mother's hand and when she started to sing an absurdly cheery song, he broke into sobs and held his mother's face towards him. He didn't even blink when she coughed up blood and it splattered all over his face. He kissed his mother's forehead and she stopped… everything. Stopped gazing at his chin, stopped singing that stupid song, and stopped breathing. Draco's body shook and he closed his mother's eyes. Without even touching his father, he picked his wand back up and ended the emergency spell. He could see wizards and witches apparating all around him and they immediately went to his parents. When they saw they could do nothing there, some of them turned to him and started questioning him, asking him to tell them what happened. He just looked at his dead parents, his shattered world, and his lost everything lying in the streets of Muggle London. The questioning went on for hours like that. The authorities would look impatiently at each other and keep asking him what happened. He wouldn't say anything, couldn't say anything. He drifted into his own world in time, and he imagined himself sitting in a room, dark but he could see fairly well. His cello rested calmly in between his legs and the bow in his right hand. He began to play the song his mother was singing; it was a slow, but obviously happy song.

Later, the officers would bring him to St. Mungos to have him checked over. When he arrived, a mediwitch tried to look into his eyes while another pricked his finger to do blood tests. He thrashed about wildly, not caring what damage he caused to himself or the people around him, he just wanted to be left with his cello, which was carefully placed on the opposite side of the room. He managed to escape from the witches and put a hand on his cello and apparated to The Manor. He had to take care of something for his mother, and everything be damned if he couldn't do at least that. It seemed as though he beat everyone to his house and quickly dropped off his cello in the main room, ran upstairs and into the east wing. He came to his mother's bedroom and opened the door. He then realized that he didn't know how to get the floorboards up so he could search underneath them.

Draco closed his eyes and flopped onto his mother's bed, her scent wafting all around him. He whimpered and hummed softly, still thinking of how to complete his mother's task. He became aware of the floor boards ripping themselves off the floor and into the air. He soon saw a red bag sitting among the straw used to insulate the floor. He leaped toward it and grabbed the heavy bag. He left the room and heard the floor boards clattering but he didn't care, he ran back down the stairs and out the doors. There was still nobody there but him.

He ran to the river that was just less than 40 meters from his house. When he got there, he realized he had no shovel or even a spade to dig a hole.

He felt he couldn't do anything right, and wished so hard that there would be a hole in the ground. He felt a rush of magic leave him, and suddenly there was a hole in the ground right next to where he was sitting. He looked at the heavy red bag in his hands and wondered what was in it.

Curiosity got the better of him and he opened it. Inside the bag was a dark colored, round ball that was just about as big as his head. He touched it and gasped as he was suddenly picturing and hearing scenes that were to happen to him in the future. They weren't fast but they were short and in some of them, he couldn't quite figure out what was happening.

He saw a house elf bowing to him and calling him "Master Malfoy". He saw himself petting a kneazle (a cat-like creature with a tale like a lion's). He saw Blaise staring at him in confusion, while saying, "Well… alright then". He saw Harry Potter's face surrounded by darkness and screaming with his eyes closed. He saw a large building labeled "M.O.M. Public Relations Bureau".

He made himself take his hand off before he saw anything important in his future. He wrapped it back in the bag and shoved it in the hole, knowing now why his mother wanted it gone. No one could have such an object or they would surely not care to live their lives, for they had already seen all there was to see.

He packed the dirt over the deep hole and then took his shoes off to stomp the dirt flat. When everything was seemingly as it was before, he took his shoes in hand and walked back to his house. He went inside and saw there were already two Ministry officials standing about with note pads and quills jotting things down and looking around. One of them noticed Draco and told him that he could pack a trunk of clothes and belongings and was allowed to live at Hogwarts before the school year started.

Draco nodded and went upstairs to pack. He was devastated that he couldn't even live in his house, but had to go to Hogwarts four weeks early for his last year of learning. He opened his door and went past his trunk, past his wardrobe, and to his bathroom. He was filthy and couldn't be seen the way he was now. He dropped his clothes to the floor, leaving them for the house elves to pick up later. He drew himself a bath and cleaned up while thinking of all that had happened the day before.

Last morning was normal as ever. He sat and had breakfast with his father as his mother continued to get ready. They had promised him a surprise and he couldn't wait to find out what was going on. His father ruined Draco's quiet anticipation however, by making several snide comments about Draco's choice in dress. Draco hadn't thought it was appropriate to antagonize one's son on a day full of wondrous surprises, but Lord Lucius had very different ideas on what was appropriate and what was not. Draco tried very hard to ignore him, but somewhere inside him, the comments struck a nerve, and when his father busied himself in his study for a while, Draco went to his room to change.

When they started to leave The Manor at around noon and headed towards Muggle London, Draco immediately knew what would be coming. His parents had repeatedly said that the only things Muggles were good for were coffee, cinema, and making instruments. Draco was already using his Uncle's cello at home, but that one was old and chipped in some spots. He asked his parents for a new one just months before, and it seemed they decided to get it for him that day.

The streets were alive in London and The Malfoys blended in with their very nice, expensive, muggle clothing. They went to a coffee shop, saw a movie, and eventually made their way over to a shop that sold, made, and repaired instruments. Draco took hours to decide which cello he wanted, but he was very satisfied when the owner took it from the shelf and put it into a hard, heavy-duty case.

He'd been so happy; the day had been so normal and lovely that he'd almost forgotten who he was. He even laughed a few times. Not even his father's scathing comments made him unhappy. Everything was fine until they left the shop.

Two months had passed and he hadn't spoken to anyone. The papers said he was deaf when a reporter saw him talking in sign language to Professor Snape. Draco didn't mind, he was too busy trapped in his own mind to notice much else besides his studies and his limited life.

He didn't notice anybody else really, except for Harry Potter.


	2. Chapter 2

Draco felt like he had been battered; he could feel the warm, thick, blood dripping through his teeth. A bright light prevented him from opening his eyes completely. He realized he couldn't get up, and he grunted in displeasure. He looked down to see why he couldn't get up and it was revealed to him that he was tied down in a chair. Draco heard a noise in the distance, he looked up and worried it would be someone he couldn't trust, someone who wouldn't help him. Draco couldn't see the figure in the bright light, but his eyes were adjusting.

The person in the distance came into view slowly, and before they became clear, he could tell it was the only man he trusted right now. He smiled into the light as the figure came closer. He could almost laugh it was so relieving.

Draco attended his review classes that the headmaster and his potions professor requested he take. Since he was the only one in the dorms, they decided that he needed to be preoccupied. As he had presumed and tried to tell Professor Snape, he knew all of his magic from the previous year and he was becoming quickly bored of the tedious and repetitive work. Draco looked up the sign for "rudimentary" to tell his professors what he meant, but they wouldn't even look at him when he tried to sign, except for Snape.

One part of what made his stay at Hogwarts more bearable was that he could go down to Diagon Alley or even Muggle London as long as he came back before curfew. Every week, he'd go down to Muggle London and buy some cigarettes. He knew they were bad for him, but he felt comforted by the thought that he was slowly being killed by his own doing and if he died earlier, he wouldn't feel too rushed.

Most of the time when he smoked, Draco found he felt so great and sexy. He had some fantasies where he would be smoking at a bar and a handsome stranger would come up to him and ask him for a cigarette. In the fantasy, the stranger would always look a little like Potter. Alright, so he was kidding himself a little bit, there was no stranger; it was just Potter, asking him for a cigarette.

He felt a little pathetic when he got hard thinking about it. How could he feel this way about his rival, who is a boy, who is forbidden by the Dark Lord? Oh no, no, Draco wasn't into the whole 'follow the Dark Lord' thing, but he couldn't help some of the anti-Potter feelings that his father tried so hard to put in him.

He remembered himself as a child trying to convince his father that Potter should be forgiven for destroying the Dark Lord. He'd memorized a quote that he felt his father might feel better about.

Who said, "Always forgive your enemies - nothing annoys them so much."? Ah yes, it was that gay poet. Oscar Wilde.


End file.
